My Bloody Valentine
by Millenium Nightmare
Summary: The apocalypse is upon us, yet our dead loved ones aren't entirely gone. Two friends separated by an unfortunate death are brought back together as miracles bring not only a cure, but new found feelings as well? Based around the story line of the movie Warm Bodies. *Technically a crossover with the original movie, but only off of story line. Characters may bump into eachother.*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I... I don't even know anymore. My mind is complete fuckery, so don't even ask.**  
**I guess this is the result from too much zombies. Pewds and Cry playing zombie games, Warm Bodies, zombie songs... Well, anyways...**  
**This won't really have much to do with the original charecters like R. I'm just basing it around the storyline of the movie. There will be a few run ins though... I just... I don't now. **  
**I guess I'll write more, it's still buzzing in my head like the annoying insect it is. So I guess I'll see ya'll in chapter two then. ^^**

Cry. My name is Cry. Or at least I think it is, seeing as I think I was called that a lot from what little I can recollect. And even at that, it isn't much. I guess you could say I have a major case of amnesia. Funny how for some reason that one word leaves a small spark in my mind, as if I'm more familiar with the term then I think I am. I can't really remember anything, other then what I think to be my name and the possible fact that I once had a family. But I don't think that's any different from what any of the rest of us can remember as well. "Us" being those who have called this shitty run down airport home. Though I can't really say for sure if anyone else has the same troublesome case of memory loss I do. I've never heard any of these guys actually speak besides the occasional moaning and grunt of "Hungry" and "City," which is pretty much the gist of our language at the moment. That's just one of the disadvantages of being dead, I guess.  
Yes, I said dead. As in deceased, departed, extinct, kicked the bucket, pushing up daisies, and whatever the hell else you want to call it. But that's the fact. I'm not a ghost. God no, I'm completely solid. Well, the occasional spots of squishy flesh could say otherwise, but heh, you get what I mean. But anyways...  
Cutting to the chase, I'm what humans call a zombie, or walking corpse. I know this from tugs of memories from my past life and basic knowledge I guess. Surprising I actually have a thought process when my brain has pretty much semi rotted and the fact I'm dead adds to one of the reasons I shouldn't be able to make a full sentence in my head. Maybe that's why we can't really speak and only grunt out a word or two. Wait, I've gotten distracted. Damn. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah. Zombies.  
Well, that's what I am, along with all the other pour souls living in this dump. We usually stay here except for when we go out to hunt. I mean, would you want to go out when there's a bunch of crazed people running around trying to constantly blow your cranium off your shoulders? Yeah, I didn't think so. But it makes sense. I would to if the predicament entailed a bunch of hungry flesh eating corpses chasing after you and trying to eat you alive. So I can't really blame them. But hey, we gotta eat one way or another.  
At the moment, I'm doing my daily routine of wandering around the southern part of the airport and letting out the occasional grunt of what I would call a greeting to my fellow zombies. What? Just because I'm dead and supposedly mindless doesn't mean I can't be polite. Even if there's a part of me wanting to limp off as quickly as I can and hide in the nearest corner to get away from some of these creeps. Nah, instincts don't really matter when you're dead anyways. Besides, I have grown to sort of call these guys my family. My big undead family of people I actually haven't the slightest clue who they are. Sure, we share the same taste in food and exchange the occasional conversation of moaning and groaning, but that doesn't mean I know them. But they can still be considered my family anyway.  
I let out a small grunt of apology as I unintentionally shove past them in my goal to amble to nowhere. We both stop and turn to stare awkwardly at each other. The guy looks around my age, his tattered red hoodie suggesting that we were most likely in the same jobless predicament. That or he just liked hoodies. I mean, who doesn't like hoodies? Actually, I can say that I have seen this guy before. He usually stayed in this one airplane stationed on the runway. We could always hear some older music blasting from inside the machine, which usually cheers me up (as much as a zombie can be cheered up) as the tune plays through the night. And I have seen him smuggle random items from around the airport and usually hunting sights back to that little hideout of his. It made me curious, but hey. I'm not going to get nosy and go peeping around places I shouldn't be.  
We both exchange a blank look and let out some small moans as we try to be polite and communicate in our primitive ways. After a moment of more awkward staring, we amble on and go our separate ways. And thus ends another everyday conversation with my fellow peers. Sad to say, this is mostly how my days go. Limp around, moan, maybe eat, avoid Boneys, moan some more, limp around more, and repeat. I know, it's not much of a life. But this is the only life I can remember since I woke up; so who am I to question it? Besides, there isn't much I can really do about it.  
I shift my gaze around the room and feel a tiny spark of excitement upon spotting a good sized group forming at the nearest entrance of the airport, looking antsy and making small excitable noises at each other. A hunting party. Good thing too, I was getting hungry and wasn't about to step out of this building without some form of buddy system. I amble towards them and join their ranks, the excitement reaching me and making my hunger grow stronger at the thought of the upcoming hunt. I know. Eating people is wrong and sick. Trust me, I'm not to proud of it either. After all, I was one of them once. But a guy's gotta eat, and at this moment I was starving. Besides, I had nothing better to do with my time.  
By the time we finally start to slowly shuffle away from the airport, I spot the red hooded kid from earlier at the front of the pack. The corners of my pale lips twitch into a small smirk and there's a bit of speed in my shuffling as they lead us outside. Well, let the hunt begin.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alright, I had this chapter already written and it was all a matter of typing it, so I was like "Fuck it, imam type this shit." So here we are. And I might have a few spelling or grammar mistakes. Spellchecks an ass and I am only one human. ._.**  
**I want to say thanks to the one person who did leave a review. I like getting them and it motivates me to write these things. So thank you, you beautiful person. Anywho, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

This morning was not going well. Firstly, he had been chosen to be sent out on a supply mission and to protect the scouts on their search. He didn't really like the fact that he had to carry a gun everywhere he went, but that was just the joys of being a guard. And despite being sent out to protect the survivors seemingly "best" scouts, they hadn't found food nor supplies of any sort. Their scout leader's so called "professional navigation" skills had led them to a completely trashed building that lacked any useful supplies of the sort. Felix shifted his gun impatiently in his hands while the three others rummaged through what seemed to be an endless amount of rotted boards and rubble from the collapsed structure. Jeff, the leader of their mission, was the only one who showed any amount of enthusiasm in his search. And that was saying something, seeing as Pewdie was an extremely excitable and bouncy person. But today, not so much.  
"There ain't nuthin' here Jeff." The blonde headed David called out from amongst the trash. "I say we ditch this place and try somewhere else."  
The older male snorted at the teen in response, but didn't say anything as he continued diligently in his search. Pewds exchanged a glance with David, then spoke from his spot on lookout.  
"I agree with David." He spoke up quietly, evenly holding the glare Jeff shot at him when he did."We've been here for thirty minutes and haven't found anything useful. There's obviously nothing here."  
"And I obviously don't care." The other man snapped back, narrowing his eyes at him as if the thought of the man talking to him was offending. "I _know_ there's supplies here because there were some stashed here last week. The rubble has only piled up since then."  
"But that doesn't mean they are still there." He pointed out. "They could've been taken by someone else or destroyed when the house crumbled."  
Jeff growled, seeming to know Felix was right, but not wanting to back down. "How should _you_ know internet boy? You're only a guard. No, wait-" His mouth curled into a sneer. "Just an idiot with a gun pretnding to be important."  
The former gamer flinched at this. He wasn't usually bothered by this asshole's stupid comments, but he felt the accusing jab from this one. He didn't reply, but held the other's gaze as the remaining team member spoke up.  
"Don't get pissed at him, Jeffery. He's right." Chad, a burly man in his mid-thirties, stood from his crouch on the top of the rubble, climbing down easily and joining the group. "There's nothing here. We need to try somehwere else or get back to the city before we get a corpse problem."  
"Don't forget about me~!" David spoke up in a hurt tone and Pewds shared an amused smirk with him. "I wanted to move in the first place!"  
Chad rolled his eyes and ignored him while Jeff flared up at being opposed.  
"We won't get a corpse problem!" He grunted in indignition. "Remember that _I'm_ in charge of this mission and that we are _not_ leaving until we find the supplies that _are_ here!"  
Felix sighed, leaning against the frame of what was once a door as he tuned out the arguing of the others. Usually the taunts and jabs at his former life didn't bother him much, taking them with a laugh or amused roll of the eyes. But today he was not in the mood for it. This was exactly the kind of shit he had to deal with everyday, as did any other of the surviving celebrity or well know fucker did. But there weren't many left. Celebrities, that is. Singers and actors were sort of a dying breed in the new world. Surprisingly, the gamers had managed to survive and outlast everyone else. How, he hadn't the slightest clue. Maybe it was the quicker reflexes they got from playing one too many horror games. But pretty much everyone he knew from the states managed to make make it to what seemed to be the last human settlement in America. Toby, Ian, Anthony, Ken, the Late Night Crew; even Marzia. He and the Italian female had been in the states when the world ended in what seemed so long ago, hanging with his freinds in Florida. It had taken a long time to reach Whashington state, but with the help from the Crew, they had all managed to make it here alive. Well... Almost everyone...  
The blonde shook his head distractedly, tightening his grip on the weapon as he pushed back unwanted memories from his mind. Now was not the time for this. He needed to focus. He began to gradually relax, blocking out the chatter from the others and stretching to loosen his cramped muscles. Leaning back against the wooden frame, the Sweadish male closed his eyes, his mind clearing of all unwanted distractions. He found this a very effective way to unwind yet help keep himself focused on duty. Staying calm in the nesassary time was key, or at least that's what his commander had told them during training. That, and they'd probably get killed and have their brains eaten anyway, despite their greatest efforts to stay alive. Such an inspiring guy.  
A queit, yet distinct chattering noise rang out from outside, and Pewdie immediantly snpped to attention. Fully alert, he edged back from the doorway and cocked his gun.  
"Uh... guys..." He whispered, loud enough to catch the other's attention. "We need to go. Now."  
Jeff snorted in that annoying mannor of his and rolled his eyes. "What is it, gamer girl? Hear a brick fall? Or did the wind scare you again?"  
Any other time Felix would've laughed it off or snapped back, but he tried to keep calm as he raised his gun, making sure it was locked and loaded.  
"Something's out there." He replied quietly. "I can't tell if it's a corpse, but we should probably get going."  
"Well, I don't hear anything." Jeff huffed in annoyance, pushing past David and Chad, then stomping outside. Pewdie took a step forwar.  
"Sir, you need to come back in here." The Swede warned, biting back his slight disgust at calling the other male 'sir.' His warning was ignored, however, as the blonde glanced around outside.  
"There isn't anything here, you moron. Just your stupid imagination-"  
His sentence ended in a strangled scream as a tall, boney creature rushed at the man, tackling him with full force and tearing into his middle. The man's gargled screams ended abruptly as his throat was torn out and Pewdie knew that there was no hope for the scout. With a yell directed to the others to flee, he pulled the trigger and sent a shower of bullets at the skeleton. The wounded creature hissed in pain, but only dragged his prize away to the rooftops. The man had to keep himself from retching at the sight of Jeff's entrails dragging behind him as he retreated out the tattered building and joining his comrades. His small sense of relief was short lived, and he cursed angrily as David let out a shout of fear.  
"Corpses!" Dammit.  
Sure enough, a good sized group of zombies were advancing quickly, growling hungrily and a spark of hunger the only sign of life shining in their glazed, dead eyes. Felix cursed again and began to shoot as many of the creatures in the head.  
"You two leave! I got this, bros!" He shouted at the two, trying to sound as casual as he could. In reality, he was about to drop his gun and run off screaming like a girl. David took a step forward.  
"Are you sure? We can't just leave you-"  
"Don't worry about it bro!" He called back, glancing back briefly to shoot them a reassuring grin before turning back to the heard. "Just go on!"  
At first he was relieved when they reluctantly took off, but the fear of being left alone with the horde reached him a few moments later and he faltered. Fuck this shit.  
He whirled around, breaking into a sprint and ducking into the nearest building in hopes of loosing them. But damn, they were surprisingly smarter then they looked. The blonde growled in annoyance as they split into two groups and surrounded the Swede on all sides. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. They must be really desperate if they were only going through the trouble of going after him. As he quickly reloaded his gun, Felix could see that there were less corpses then he originally thought there were, adding up to around ten in all. But that was still /way/ more then he was comfortable with.  
Focusing on the first group, he easily knocked down each of the slower zombies with a bullet to the head. He let out a small laugh of triumph at his easy kills, this being much easier then he had first thought. But it was only when he turned around after finishing off the first group that he froze. He took small steps backwards, his blue eyes locked on one of the head zombies in surprise and shock. No... it couldn't be. But even with him wishing it wasn't, there was no denying it.  
The corpses once healthy hazel colored hair now lay limp on his head, dulled in color over time. He recognized the tattered blue hoodie and the familiar, but now faded, 'Sup?' guy printed on his shirt. Felix raised his gun and held the dead man's glazed over blue gaze as the corpse let out a growl of hunger, but couldn't bring himself to shoot. There was no doubt about it. It was him.  
"Cry..."  
Cry stopped in his tracks as if recognizing his nickname, and for a slight moment Pewdie thought he looked slightly confused. But the male pushed away the thought and raised his gun to finish off a few walkers that had gotten a bit too close for comfort. By then, his dead friend had begun to advance, a bit slower then before, and the blonde reluctantly raised his weapon. He ran over the words that General Grigio had told them before they left.  
_"This is a corpse affected by the plague. It is uncaring, unfeeling."  
_Pewdie steadied his breath. Come on Pewds, you can do it.  
_ "Corpses do not think. They do not bleed. They are incapable of remorse."_  
He doesn't remember you anyway. He's dead and all he wants to do is kill and eat you. He shuddered at the thought of being eaten by his best friend. Not a pleasant thought. He rolled his shoulders and locked eyes with Cry.  
"Don't worry 'bout it Cry." He told him quietly, as if he'd understand. With a deep breath, he pulled the trigger and fired.


End file.
